


old comforts

by girlsarewolves



Series: tumblr askbox fills [3]
Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Reunions, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: There is little talking the first day of her return.Atlanna thought she would have a thousand questions - Tom thought much the same. But once they finally walk the distance from the pier back to the lighthouse, hands clasped together as Atlanna whispers to him what a wonderful father he must have been to Arthur, how she hates that she missed it, and Tom assuring her there are plenty of pictures and home videos to make up for it, they find the silence suits them much better.





	old comforts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheYearOfTheWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYearOfTheWolf/gifts).



> For the prompt: "Cookies."
> 
> I, uh, wound up with a very loose interpretation of that. Anyway hope this is decent, I love these two a lot. Feedback appreciated! :)

* * *

There is little talking the first day of her return.

 

Atlanna thought she would have a thousand questions - Tom thought much the same. But once they finally walk the distance from the pier back to the lighthouse, hands clasped together as Atlanna whispers to him what a wonderful father he must have been to Arthur, how she hates that she missed it, and Tom assuring her there are plenty of pictures and home videos to make up for it, they find the silence suits them much better.

 

Atlanna has always loved that about her human lover - they can talk and talk and talk, but there is no fear of the silence. No need to fill it up with empty words. It is something she strangely missed, despite the long years of solitude.

 

The silence between them is comfortable, comforting even. The silence of exile is lonely and oppressive.

 

What once drove her mad about the long hours forced to be around Orvax, Atlanna found herself doing constantly during those years alone. Filling up the silence with empty words, just to hear herself, just to remember what it was like to converse, just to keep from going mad. Long, detailed, one-sided conversations between her and the water, or with the trees, or to the creatures that would come and go. Morbid talks with her food as she caught it, killed it, cooked it. Lazy chats to the waterfall that hid her one and only hope of ever escaping and the near godlike creature that guarded it. Just to hear a voice, even if it was her own - after all, what was the point keeping all her thoughts to herself if no one was there to hear her?

 

On some days, the loneliest days, she would talk to the looming stalactites high above her - speaking to her sons, to Tom. Saying all the things she wished she could say to them, if she could only get one more chance to speak with them. All too often those days ended in tears - or angry, hysterical shouts at Orvax, at her father, at the old, ingrained ways of her kingdom that had cast her out for something so holy and so innocent as love - as loving beyond and despite of differences, of years of hate and wrong beliefs.

 

Now she's free. Back in that lighthouse she missed so much, with the only man who never warned her against following her heart.

 

For the longest time, once they return to the house, they just lay together on the sofa, neither speaking. Her head and hand over Tom's heart, his fingers combing through her hair. Something so simple, so missed. She doesn't feel the need to fill up the air anymore, not when she can listen to his heart beating beneath her, the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he holds her. She feels the familiar, warm prick of tears in her eyes and lets them come - not the angry, fitful crying of isolation, they fall gently and silently. Damp on her skin and Tom's shirt.

 

"Atlanna?" 

 

She lets out a choking laugh at that, looks up at him, smiling with wet cheeks. It comforts her to see his own eyes are watery too, on the verge of overflowing. "I'm fine. It's just so good to be back."

 

"It's good to have you back," he whispers, pressing his mouth to her forehead. His arms around her squeeze a little tighter, nose pressed to her hair and inhaling. "You still smell like sea foam," he chuckles against her.

 

"You still smell of land," she teases back and mimics his gesture, her face pressing against his shirt and chest, inhaling deeply. "Strange chemicals and earthy scents I can never quite place. And you. You smell like you."

 

"I'm sure I also smell a little too much like beer," he mumbles, tone hinting at some embarrassment.

 

Atlanna just looks up at him, smiling. "I don't mind." Her hand slowly reaches up from his chest to his cheek, thumb brushing over his skin, now damp like hers. "It's still you." It's easy, kissing Tom. Her mouth presses to his, and he lets her lead - he almost always lets her lead, never any desperation to prove himself, assert himself over her. She takes in the warmth of him, her hands both now cupping his face as his rest on her hips, gently kneading. Everything comes back to her, like deja vu, all the memories that she had thought were slipping during her time trapped at the Earth's core. But she fits against him still, despite the years apart and all that's changed them. It's comforting - like milk and cookies, he used to say. Atlanna nibbles a little on his lower lip. "And I missed you greatly," she whispers, her nose to his, eyes still closed from the kiss. 

 

Tom's hands move up, one to cup the back of her head, the other squeezing her shoulder fondly. His forehead presses forward and they rest there for a moment, just like that. "I missed you too." It's strained, like his throat is constricted, and she kisses him again, peppers light kisses over his jaw and neck and nestles her head on his shoulder while he wraps his arms around her fully.

 

They have plenty of time to talk. For now, Atlanna savors the old, familiar quiet of Tom and his lighthouse.

* * *

 


End file.
